


Uneasy is the Head, Heavy is the Heart

by SolarisRasa



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Clave Politics, First Kiss, Flowers, M/M, Politics, Scars, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:42:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28039377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolarisRasa/pseuds/SolarisRasa
Summary: Magnus Bane is the King of the Downworld. A warlock crowned in power and the trust and admiration of others, he stands in opposition of the centuries old prejudices of the Clave. He is the head of the snake and as the newly installed Head of the New York Institute, Alexander Lightwood is tasked with taking him down. The Clave wants his head but Alec won’t kill a man who doesn’t deserve it, he’s sold enough of his soul for the society that wants iron control of him.Still, he’s not about to befriend the man, but he needs to meet him, to evaluate for himself what to do. Born without a soulmark, Alec assumes he is unworthy of love, that something is fundamentally wrong with him, but when Magnus Bane grasps his bare arm...
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, background Canon Relationships - Relationship
Comments: 30
Kudos: 313
Collections: The Malec Secret Santa - Edition 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For adhdposterchildoftheyear on tumblr!
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!

“Perhaps all love sailed too close to madness. The deeper the love, the more dangerous.”

― **Cassandra Clare**

-

The leather of his gloves is supple, the flex of them over his knuckles grounding and familiar, as he tugs them in place. They come to his elbow on his left arm and up to mid forearm on his right, only the fingers he uses for the draw are covered. They double as a good way to hide his lack of soulmark. He focuses on them, smoothing them in place and examining them for wear, so he doesn’t have to face his sister.

Isabelle is leaning forward, hands braced on the edge of his desk, waiting for his answer.

_Why isn’t he just following the damn orders?_

He hasn’t told her yet, exactly what the orders are, only that he is planning on deviating from them, but he can’t dance around it any longer.

“The Clave has commanded that I take down Magnus Bane.”

Isabelle jerks upright and Jace, standing casually by the door to his office, curses.

“Take down.” Isabelle repeats sharply.

Alec nods, “Yes. In too many words they want me to commit murder.”

“What, are they asking for his literal head?” Jace asks flippantly. Alec can feel the anger zinging across their bond though and he agrees with his brother.

“They have asked,” Alec says, carefully calm, “that I bring his Mark, as proof.”

The silence in his office is so complete he’s certain at least one of them has stopped breathing. Maybe it’s him. 

“Has the Inquisitor lost her mind? Making any move directly against Magnus is already insane, but killing him? Taking his Mark? It’ll be a full scale war! He’s practically King of the Downworld, he’s the speaker for the Spiral Labyrinth and you know the other factions consider his word law.” Isabelle’s voice gets fuller as she speaks, working herself into a full hurricane of anger and disbelief. 

“The Clave believes that Magnus is the “head of the snake.” They assume if we kill him the Downworld will be too scattered in the power grab to strike back.” Alec can’t contain a snort of derision, “They have no understanding of how Bane’s power works. He is not some formally voted leader, he has the trust and admiration of the formal leaders, here in New York and around the world. If we kill him we gain _nothing._ I tried to explain, but no one would listen. All they see is a new, untested Head trying to avoid a difficult task."

“So what are we going to do?” Jace asks, pushing off the wall he’s leaned against, frowning. Alec wonders how much of his own bitterness leaks over the bond as he sighs. He’s given everything he is to the Clave, fought for them, buried anything about himself that’s _different_ for them but he will not give them the war they seem to want. He won’t create a world like that for his siblings.

“I’m going to meet with Magnus Bane.”

Isabelle and Jace both stare at him and then Izzy grins, her teeth glittering against red lips, “We’re going clubbing then?”

Alec pinches his hands together, he would prefer to do this alone but he knows Jace won’t let him go into enemy territory alone and bringing Izzy, friend to the Downworld and perfect backup is just good strategy.

“Pandemonium. Santiago confirmed, Magnus is holding court tonight.”

Izzy makes a delighted sound and Jace’s eyes brighten in excitement. Alec tracks the way he touches his soulmark, always eager for an opportunity to spend more time with Clary. He’s sure Simon will be along too and as much as he wishes this operation would stay small, he can’t begrudge either of them time with their soulmates. 

Clary’s mother is under Magnus’ protection as well, so he decides to count her presence as a win. 

-

Alec’s siblings split off with their soulmates as soon as they’re far enough under the roof to see that, yes, Magnus is here. He rolls his eyes as Izzy drags Simon away to dance and Jace no doubt grabs a corner to neck with Clary and keep an eye on Alec. 

If there’s a burst of bitter longing that rises in his throat, well, Alec fixes his gloves and shoves it down. He’s dressed in all black gear, hardly meant for clubbing, to the chagrin of the others, even Simon and he knows he stands out to Magnus.

The warlock tracks his progress across the dance floor as he threads between too many bodies, his height and glare cutting a decent path. Alec knows that, if he was inclined, Bane could help him arrive faster, but he won’t. They’ve met all of twice and though Alec thinks Magnus doesn’t _hate_ him neither meeting has been...the best. Both were before his official appointment though and he hopes that, if they can navigate past his current orders, they can work together.

He comes to the base of the risen platform where Magnus lounges and he settles into a relaxed but respectful stance, hands clasped behind him, patient. He knows this is Magnus’ territory and his quiet waiting is as good as politely requesting to speak with him as his words would be drowned out by the pounding beat. That it doubles as a good moment to allow Alec to just _look_ is...irrelevant. 

Look he does though. There’s no harm in it, shadowhunters marry their soulmates and, as the only nephilim without a soulmark, he never will. Someone as beautiful as Magnus Bane deserves to be admired, even if only from afar by someone he’d never look twice at. He’s dressed in burgundy and gold, flecks of gold leaf stripped from the corners of his eyes to his temples. A filigree choker feeds into intricate golden chains that drag over the expanse of gorgeous skin his shirt leaves bared and matches his earrings and claw like rings perfectly. 

He is anathema to Alec in nearly every way. Even in the position he now occupies, most people look at Jace first, their eyes slide right past him unless he’s actively taking command. No one could ever look away from the burn-bright spark that is Magnus Bane.

Golden cat eyes pin him in place, finally, and he viciously puts down the way that gaze sweeps heat through him. He expects Magnus to need his prompting to clear his other guests away but as soon as Magnus beckons him nearer, he’s turning and shoo-ing the other beautiful downworlders away. The new angle reveals a delicate sprig of green with small white flowers tattooed along one of his collar bones. He has a soulmate.

Most warlocks glamour their markings but Alec is certain that’s what it must be. Shadowhunters, vampires, werewolves, and mundanes get names on their skin, seelies dream in tandem, and warlocks have flowers where their soulmates first touch them. 

Alec feels ashamed immediately of his previous staring. He _knows_ there is no one for him, there’s no point in tormenting himself like this, even for the hope of something casual. Bane snaps his fingers and with a swirl of blue is holding two drinks, raising an eyebrow at Alec.

He steps onto the dais and accepts one. He can hear Jace in his head, mumbling about “getting himself poisoned” but he drinks easily. If Magnus kills him tonight, at least there’s a clear winner between them. More importantly he knows the downworld would consider it bad form to kill a non-hostile guest.

“Thank you.” Alec says and Magnus’ lips quirk up.

He gestures, his sharply tipped fingers catching the light, for them to sit. Alec is out of his element like this, but he sits beside Magnus on the wide couch. This is closer than he wants to be for this conversation but even with Magnus’ wards the music is still a factor.

“What brings you here Alexander?” Magnus idly stirs his drink with his pinky.

“As you know I was appointed, officially, Head of the Institute a few weeks ago.” Magnus dips his chin in easy acknowledgement, “What I doubt you know-” He’s taking a risk in sharing this but imagining Magnus’ eyes the way the Clave would prefer them steels his resolve, “What I doubt you know is that the Clave doesn’t want me to remain the Head. I’ve played their game a long time. They banned my parent’s from holding any positions of real power after their involvement with Valentine around the New Accords and I realized early how that would affect me. If it was just me it wouldn’t matter but I have siblings who deserve more than to live in the shadow of our parent’s mistakes. I’m a good soldier and I’ve made myself a decent politician but the fact is the Clave wants me to mess up so they can replace me and hide Izzy away in Idris.”

Magnus listens with an impassive look, sipping his drink, but Alec thinks there’s something softened beneath the calculation in his gaze.

“Your sister is certainly far more charming than any other shadowhunter I’ve met and I don’t imagine the Clave is fond of her Vampire soulmate. I don’t know what any of this has to do with me, unless you’re asking for my help? It will cost you, you know.” Magnus says the last with a little wink but Alec simply doesn’t have time to be subtle here.

“The Clave assigned me a mission that they very much want completed but which I am sure they think I will fail. It’ll either kill me or disgrace me enough to remove me.” Alec licks his lips and braces, “They’ve given me a kill order.”

Magnus’ eyes flash, magic curls around his hands, and he sets his drink down, “If you have come to ask me to help you hunt down one of my own people you’re worse than a fool.”

Alec presses his lips together and breaths slowly through his nose, “It’s you.”

Magic circles him tightly, not painful, just present. It would be a threat if he wasn’t ready to accept any outcome that didn’t end in an all out war. Magnus’ cat eyes burn into him but he doesn’t flinch.

“You’re not armed, you’re not even carrying a phone.” Magnus releases him, “Planning on talking me to death?”

Alec shrugs and picks his drink back up, “I’d have brought Simon up here if that was the case.”

The laugh that brings from Magnus is a surprise, but a good one. His face is so much softer as he smiles, delighted for a moment before he grows wary again.

“So, the senility or downright insanity that I always suspected was rampant in the Clave is making itself known.”

Alec won’t argue with that assessment so he just hums.

“You’ve been ordered to put an end to little ol’ me, which we can’t have for obvious reasons. If you don’t kill me they replace you and just send someone else who won’t be polite enough to warn me first _and_ if they succeed or if we pretend you kill me we’re looking at war. This is not what I was hoping for when I saw you standing there Alexander.” Magnus sounds like he’s pouting and Alec can’t help the slight smile it pulls from him.

“I will find a solution, I promise, but I wanted you to know, just in case I’m not the only one with the order. If someone else comes after you, don’t toy with them Magnus, don’t let them close, just stay safe.” 

“You seem terribly concerned about my personal safety, I guessed this was more about the fallout of killing me.”

Alec closes his eyes, “My sister spends a lot of her free time with downworlders, I may not get out much but my parabatai does, he’s friends with the local wolves and Clary Fairchild is his soulmate. I know what kind of leader you are, unofficial though you _technically_ are and I’d like to think I’ve some idea of just how good a person you are too. I don’t want a war, I don’t want to see a good man die and I won’t stand for the thought of the Clave taking your eyes as the first spoil.”

Alec is saying too much, he knows he is, but he’s telling the truth. He stands, turning to leave, speaking quickly over his shoulder as he starts away, “I’ll contact you when I have a plan.”

Magnus’ fingers, warm under the smooth metal of his claw rings, catch his right arm. The press of Magnus skin, just the pads of his fingers to the strip of skin between the end of Alec’s gloves and his rolled sleeve, is electric. 

Alec jerks to a stop, eyes locked onto the grip Magnus has on him. He watches as, in the gaps of metal and fingers a small stem of white orchids blooms. Magnus is saying something but Alec can’t tear his eyes away from the flowers. 

His soulmate has touched him. Magnus Bane is his soulmate. 

For one brief moment elation swells in him. It tastes like hope, like years of telling himself it’s fine that he will never be loved except by his siblings, who will never understand how isolated he feels. He turns quickly to look at Magnus again, he eyes wide, and the hope fractures brutally inside of him. 

The flower on Magnus’ collar bone.

Alec’s never touched him there. By all rights Magnus should have tiny blooms on the tips of his fingers, a warlock's soulmark is where they first touch their soulmate. Magnus _is_ his soulmate but even then, Alec isn’t enough to be Magnus’ in return.

“Alexander?” Magnus doesn’t sound like the High Warlock right now, he sounds concerned and Alec jerks back a step. He’s completely exposed, so blindsided by the mark caressing his inner arm that he’s done nothing to shield himself and Magnus no doubt saw every thought as it crossed his face.

Alec steps back again but he’s found the edge of the dais and he trips. He falls with the grace of his race and shoves himself back to his feet, running from Magnus as he reaches to help.

He came here to warn a potential ally not to find his soulmate and certainly not to have his deepest fear confirmed. Making his way outside, Alec gets far enough from the door, activates his glamour and leans against the wall with his eyes closed. 

He’s been ordered to kill his soulmate.

His unreciprocated soulmate.

-

It is strange to think of the New York Institute as a safe place.

Magnus strides up the front steps, fully expecting the usual routine from the nephilim standing guard but all he gets is a quick glance over and a welcoming nod. If he didn’t already have grudgingly hopeful expectations for Alec Lightwood’s tenure as Head he might have stopped to demand an explanation. Instead he winks and does his best to enter like he owns the place.

The operations floor is bustling as the rays of the setting sun cut through colored windows to paint wavering lines on the stern floor. A few shadowhunters spare him uncertain looks but most are just too busy to notice him. It’s disconcerting to realize that they simply don’t consider him a threat.

He’s almost offended until he catches sight of Alec. Any offense is tossed in favor of appreciation.

Lightwood is standing so the golden light ripples around him, dressed entirely in a black suit, hands behind his back. He is listening with a furrow in his dark brows, his mouth serious, as Jace Herondale speaks, clearly listing some report from the tablet in his hands. He is a picture of power but there’s a rounding to his shoulders and a tension in him that Magnus associates with anxiety.

For some reason, Alexander Lightwood would prefer not to be seen.

“Magnus!” Isabelle’s warm greeting pulls his eyes from her brother and he laughs as she comes toward him. Her outfit, as usual he suspects, is not what most would call modest and the wide grin on her face tells him he’s going to be greeted like an old friend. He’s met her exactly once, properly, though he’s seen her dance and he knows Simon marginally better. 

Sure enough, she makes a gesture to embrace him and he allows it.

“This isn’t what you wear to patrol?”

She winks, “Kill demons with a blade and boys with a look.”

He grins but he can see Alec moving toward them now, “Uh-oh, does big brother disapprove?”

Isabelle looks confused for a second and then she’s smirking as Alec answers him instead, rolling his eyes.

“If anyone takes issue with how Izzy chooses to dress they can certainly file a complaint. With me. In the training room.” He raises an eyebrow.

Magnus shakes his head, charmed at the firm way that Alec supports his sister and the way she flashes them both a grin before leaving them for Jace’s company. Alec clears his throat and gestures with one hand toward his office. Magnus notes that he’s still wearing his gloves, under his suit jacket.

In the office, clearly still in transition from the last Head, Victor Aldertree, Alec seems nervous. He doesn’t sit but stands beside the desk, rubbing his fingers over the wood as he watches Magnus.

“Mr. Bane, did you have something we need to discuss?”

Magnus sighs, “You left quickly the other night. I wanted to make sure you were alright-” Magnus holds up a hand as Alec opens his mouth, “and to talk about what you’re planning on doing about your orders, exactly.”

Interestingly that only makes the man more nervous, if the way he licks his lip and looks down is anything. Magnus frowns. He isn’t in the habit of making people uncomfortable on purpose unless they deserve it.

“If it helps, you probably couldn’t kill me if you did decide to follow the order. I’d win that fight.” 

He’s trying for a joke and maybe a bit of reassurance but Alec just goes a little paler. He’s really not sure what’s happening.

“I’m-I apologize for leaving so quickly at Pandemonium, the reason was personal but that doesn’t excuse my lack of courtesy. I have been planning, but most of the things I can come up with require a wider time frame than I believe we have. There is, of course, a formal agreement between you and this Institute for wards maintenance, but the _very_ limited protection of that only applies while you’re on the grounds. For all the rest, the Clave is a stickler for paperwork and adhering to written agreements. Sometimes I think they value it more than soulmates.” 

Alec says it easy, grumbling almost at the end, but there’s something terribly careful in how he’s behaving and it puts Magnus on alert.

“You sound like you’re not a fan.”

“Of the Clave?” Alec asks, sardonic.

“Of soulmates.” Magnus shrugs, but he’s watching close enough to catch the way Alec flinches.

“They are sacred. Gifted to us by the Angel, all of us. It is higher than parabatai, even. The Clave doesn’t _like_ when we bond with non-nephilim, but they still support it, it’s that important.” He has shifted so his left hand curls around the upper part of his right arm and his knuckles are white, the fabric of his sleeve bunching.

“Yes. That’s how the Clave feels about them, but what about you?” 

Alec licks his lip, his eyes flicker away but he draws himself up, finally squaring his shoulders, “I think they are the most precious gift someone could be worthy of, but,” he looks at Magnus again, “unless your soulmate can help us, they have no strategic value in saving you.”

Magnus frowns, Alec speaks like his soulmate is a given, like the flowers that have been blooming on his skin for two decades have clear meaning. It occurs to him then, that Alec has only seen one of the many blooms exposed and probably drawn the logical conclusion.

Warlocks love to play at mystery and he doubts the Clave has the full scope of the facts of their soulbonds on file. When a warlock touches another immortal flowers bloom on their skin where they first connect, but when a warlock's soulmate is mortal...fate has to be more proactive or they might miss each other entirely. Magnus is _very_ aware of every soulmark on his body, though he covers most of them to avoid questions or staring. Each flower corresponds to a scar on his mortal soulmate.

He doesn’t have the chance to express this, as Alexander is determined to re-focus their discussion. 

He is planning to do everything he can to find a loophole for Magnus to slip through and, barring that, a place for Magnus to stay on institute grounds where his agreement with them will protect him long enough to buy them more time to search.

Magnus has his doubts about the Clave letting him get away on a technicality, but he admires the determination in Alexander’s eyes and decides he has time enough to trust his fate to this strange nephilim.

-

Alec’s hands aren’t as steady as he wants them to be when he presses them to his face. It’s been four days since he last saw Magnus and the orchids on his inner arm mock him when they aren’t covered. 

He scrubs his hands down his cheeks, water running between his fingers and catching on his eyelashes, his lips. He opens his eyes, dropping his left hand to trace the white outline of the flowers. He looked them up last night, tentatively pushing the long sleeve of his shirt up and comparing them to photos.

Moon Orchids. The flower of Indonesian.

They point him further toward Magnus and the ache in his heart spreads even more. The warmth of his shower is nothing compared to the burning _shame_ that makes his lungs hurt. 

Without a soulmark he was an anomaly. The first unmarked _anything_ on record for two millenia, the last was a mundane woman who killed herself after decades of devotion to the church, believing it meant she was soulless. Alec had poured over the accounts of her life and came to the conclusion that if she was right, he too was without a soul, a vessel unworthy of one. 

That was years ago. He had a better understanding of himself now, he knew that love was not a necessity, that the warmth of his family was not cheapened by his half-soul. He was whole in many ways but no less lonely, not in a world full of destined pairs, even if their destinies were ruinous for one another. 

He takes a shuddering breath and forces himself out of the shower, toweling off with brutal efficiency. He was an anomaly before, but one with purpose and drive, a good soldier, a good leader. 

Now, he traces the orchid’s again, now he doesn’t know what he is. No soulbond is unreciprocated, for all that some choose to ignore them or their match falls apart in some defiance of fate that never seems to work out anyway (He thinks of how his mother and father have been unable to stop themselves from drifting back towards their respective soulmates). There is no ancient woman to ground him, that this is not his fault.

He braces his hands on the edge of his sink and for a moment allows himself to choke on the fear that pushes up his throat.

Even to his very soul he is not good enough. Even his destined partner could not be satisfied with him so he is just an extra, an unnecessary limb meant to be cast off.

Alec forces himself to breathe.

Still...he curls his left hand around the flowers scrawled against his pale skin, protective of them. He may be an ill-fit for Magnus, but the days of fire messages and eventually text messages make him think that Magnus is not at all an ill-fit for _him._

There’s a sharp knock on the bathroom door and he jolts.

“Alec? Magnus is here, he said he wants to go over the exact wording of the order and that he has an idea.” Izzy calls.

He sees the doorknob start to turn and answers sharply to stop her, “I’m naked! I’ll be there in a moment!”

She snorts but acknowledges and he slumps in relief as her footsteps retreat.

-

Jace is recounting a boring night of patrol to Clary and, by proximity, Magnus when Alec finds them. 

Magnus loses the thread of conversation when he sees Alexander. He’s already _very_ aware of the man’s looks, but wet hair and a soft grey long-sleeved shirt that’s stuck to his damp skin? Magnus needs a moment. A long one.

“Are you alright?” Alexander’s voice is low with concern and Magnus nods, giving him a flirty little grin, for fun he tells himself.

“With a view like this?” He gestures to Alec, “I’m perfect.”

Alec blushes but something flashes in his eyes that makes Magnus ease up on his staring. He’s forgotten, with their texting and the way Alexander’s dry humor carries through writing well, that the man holds himself like he’s bracing for an attack. He only seems comfortable when he’s leading his people, something Magnus has barely glimpsed.

“Izzy said you wanted to review the Clave’s missive?”

Magnus waves a hand, “Yes. They’re so caught up in _sounding_ righteous they might have created the exact sort of loophole we need in the order itself.”

Alec gestures toward his office, letting Magnus go ahead of him and nodding at Jace, “She also mentioned you had an idea?”

Magnus shrugs, hands fluttering out as he tries to dispel the nerves that question brings, “Something to mention if the Clave hasn’t written us a backdoor after all.”

They step into Alec’s office, more barren than before, nothing seems to belong to him yet and it makes something twinge in Magnus. Here is a leader who is _good_ and who makes Magnus hope and he is likely to be removed just for the luck of being born to the wrong people and that very goodness. 

Magnus takes a seat in one of the leather chairs without waiting for an invitation, ignoring the bare room to watch Alexander as he steps behind his desk. He tugs open a drawer, his sleeve catching on the corner. With a move of practice impatience he shoves the sleeve to his elbow, right hand flicking deftly across his body to mirror the motion so both sleeves are pushed up.

It occurs to Magnus that he’s never seen Alec without his archer’s gloves, usually worn even under other sleeves. Not that he knows how normal that is, he can still count on one hand the number of times he’s actually seen the man. 

Alec reaches into the draw, right arm facing out, and Magnus’ breath catches.

Just below his inner elbow is a bloom of Moon Orchids, the white of them a shock among the black markings of his rune. He stares at them and then his gaze tracks down to Alexander’s wrist, darting from right to left and realizing.

Both wrists are empty. The place a shadowhunter name should be unmarked.

“Your soulmark-”

Alexander jerks, the tablet falls, and he yanks his sleeves down so fast Magnus hears the shoulder of his shirt tear. His eyes are wider than normal but otherwise he keeps his expression locked down.

“I don’t have one. I was born to be alone.”

The words are calm, practiced even and Magnus forgets all sense of decorum. He pushes out of his chair and catches Alec’s right hand, ignoring the way the man tries to pull away. Magnus’ hands are steady as he carefully moves Alexander’s sleeve back up his arm, back above the flowers.

In his hold, Alexander shivers. He looks away from Magnus, jaw set.

There is a moment, in the silence that hangs thick, that Magnus’ oldest fears rise up. Of course his mortal soulmate is nephilim, of course Alexander didn’t want him to know. He might be good but Magnus is notorious, has stood in opposition of the Clave and their prejudice for centuries, even Alec couldn’t _want_ him. Magnus shoves those doubts away, burying them deep with a slow breath, his thumb tracing the flowers. 

Alexander doesn’t know how this works and Magnus can only imagine what it’s been like for him, years of thinking he simply doesn’t have a soulmate, that he is destined for no one, only to suddenly bear a mark. He thinks of the night at pandemonium, the way that Alec’s gaze had lingered on his collar bones. _Lilith, what does he think this means?_

“I’m sorry.” Alec grits out, breaking the silence.

Magnus doesn’t release him, but uses one hand to touch his chin lightly, asking. Alec visibly steels himself and then turns toward him.

“Do you know what happens when an Immortal is given a mortal soulmate?”

It’s clear that Alexander hasn’t thought so far ahead yet and Magnus regrets his phrasing as he watches him absorb that thought, Magnus will live forever and he...won’t. He shakes his head, lips pressing tight.

“I could’ve lived your entire lifetime a world away from you, none-the-wiser. You would never know why your skin was unmarked, I would never see my flowers on you.” He swallows, “So fate found a work around. When one half is mortal, the immortal knows they live by the marks of their life. Every scar you’ve ever borne, Alexander, every one.”

He waves a hand over his own face, to draw Alec’s eye more than for any true need, and let’s a layer of his glamor fall. A delicate harebell cuts through his eyebrow, a curve of forget-me-not cups his chin, the bloom on his collar bone is joined by a climbing vine on his neck. Each of Alec’s runes, he imagines, correspond to one of the larger flowers in placement.

Alec’s eyes are huge and he reaches like he’s going to touch, but stops himself, “Every…”

Magnus nods slowly, “Nothing that’s healed without one. I keep them covered, no sense in advertising my mortal soulmate until I’d actually met you. I do like to leave the one out, it keeps people from getting too friendly unless I’m in the mood for it.”

He’s mostly teasing, he isn’t shy of the pleasures of the flesh but since the flowers started appearing he’s taken fewer and fewer lovers. Alexander barely seems to register it, staring at the soulmarks. Magnus tries to make eye-contact, worried.

The liquid shine in Alec’s eyes makes his stomach clench and then-

“You’re mine?” Alexander breathes, like speaking any louder will make Magnus take it back, “My soulmate?”

Magnus strokes a thumb over the orchids on Alec’s arm and he smiles a little, now that the explanation is done the shock is wearing off for him too and he feels something tremulous building in him.

“Yes. Alec. My Alec.”

Magnus doesn’t know who moves first but they cling to each other tightly. A new horror for the orders Alexander has been given fills Magnus.

“ _Lilith._ They sent you to kill me!”

Alec doesn’t let him go, just leans back enough to look at him and the fire Magnus watches blaze to life in his face steals his breath.

“They wouldn’t dare now. You’re my soulmate, the most sacred of bonds. I _will_ protect you Magnus.”

Magnus wants to answer, but words don’t seem to suffice, he tips his chin up and Alexander must feel the same, their bond mustn’t be platonic, because Alec takes the invitation.

The shadowhunter kisses him with a soft ferocity that Magnus thinks might unravel him and he thinks, home could be somewhere and someone. He could belong with Alec. His wandering heart could rest.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this was supposed to be done...uhhh a while ago. Hades is a good game and I have no shame.  
> If anyone has anything they'd like to see from this particularly 'verse stick it in the comments, because I might write more of this eventually :)

Magnus cannot help the way he traces the lines of Alexander’s soulmark. He is helplessly drawn to the bloom of it, his thumb sweeps over it and then his fingers trail as they sit, silent, on his couch. He thinks he should apologize. He would have in the past, with other lovers.

He would have worked to contain the depth of feeling, the hope, the uncertainty and the fear that crash over him. His feelings are waves, drawing him further into the sea, but, this, touching Alec, is his shore. 

In turn Alexander simply watches him.

It should be uncomfortable. Magnus is almost certain that it would be far more unnerving if Alec’s expression had wavered at all. Instead he’s been looking at Magnus with a terrible, awe-filled, fragility of his own. There’s such devotion, already. It’s exhilarating...it’s  _ terrifying.  _

Magnus draws a breath in deep, the sound of air rushing into him breaks the spell between them.

“The clave?” Magnus doesn’t want…

There’s no place in his chest for the things they need to work out, for the logistics of leadership and politics and ridiculous  _ bigoted  _ (and Magnus has  _ feelings  _ about what this modern Clave has twisted the Nephilim into, what it’s done to their sacred duty) institutions. It doesn’t matter. They have to come up with answers, they have to decide how to tell the Clave.

“Soulmates are sacred, blessed of the angel, no matter who the pair is.” Alec says the words softly but there’s a memorized quality to them and Magnus imagines them appearing in text.

“Yes.” 

“The Clave will rescind the kill order, but they won’t be happy. They’ll say it’s a conflict of interest. I would imagine they will either demote me and put someone in place who will do what they can to silence me. Or they’ll send me to Wrangle Island and hope you follow me.” Alec finally looks away from him and Magnus’ jaw clenches.

Part of him wants to tell Alexander to leave, to just come join the downworld. Jocelyn did. The bigger part of him knows that Jocelyn’s position was very different, that despite the recent centuries the Clave was not always corrupted. The little he knows of Alexander tells him that his soulmate would do it, if Magnus seriously asked him, but that he is made to be the force for change the Clave needs.

Magnus has lived a long time. He has seen so many mundanes pass who believed they could change a system from the inside, mundanes who could not understand how far the rot had spread, the need to tear down and rebuild. He thinks, looking at the set of Alexander’s jaw and the determined light in his eyes as he turns to look at Magnus again, that Alec understands when something must be broken to be remade. 

They do not have the luxury of simply destroying the Clave. That could have been done, has been attempted. Downworlders can fight demons, some of them are even good at it. None of them are made for it. They are not born to bloodlines blessed by angels, scions of hope meant to stand against the unending dark. They could do it, for a while, if they had too. They could probably keep themselves alive, pocket groups in an ever crumbling hellscape as the demons gained ground. They would not be able to protect the mundanes. They would not do what the Nephilim do.

He does not say this to Alexander, does not ask him to turn his back on the culture he was born to.

"We can't let them replace you, New York would crumble under the paperwork alone." Magnus tries to make him smile, "I have a long memory, longer than the Clave. I'm sure I can make a case for us...after all, they claim to seek peace."

The determination in Alexander’s eyes grows brighter, the silver of his soul shining in them, “You think we could make this about peace? I know the New Accords are still missing signatures but how…”

Magnus grins and lets the space between them grow a little as he leans back into the couch cushions, summoning drinks for each of them. Alec takes his softly pink drink with a bemused little wrinkle in his brows, his eyes darting to the drink for only a few moments. When he looks back to Magnus there’s tentative hope and a steady belief in him. 

“One of the missing signatures is mine. At least two others are friends of mine. We’ve all been operating within the confines of good faith for a decade and a half, but the Clave is desperate to either force our cooperation or sink their teeth into us. It’s probably why they sent you after me with some mad reasoning about snakes and heads.” Magnus flashes Alec a smile, “With my gorgeous self out of the way I’m sure they assumed the others would cave and if not, what’s a little more blood on the hands of murderers?”

Alec’s jaw tightens and he takes a sip, too slow to be anything but intentional. Magnus sighs, “I don’t mean you Alexander. I don’t even really mean the Clave, as it’s meant to be.”

Alec nods, “The bureaucracy has fed into itself until they’ve lost sight of our purpose. I told my sister I wanted to change it, when I took this position. She told me it might be impossible.”

Magnus raises an eyebrow and Alexander grins, “I told her impossible just means try again.”

They both laugh at that but Alec sobers quickly, “I don’t want you to agree to sign just so that I don’t get pushed around. There has to be a good reason you didn’t sign the New Accords in the first place. From the portions of them I’ve been allowed to read, I can imagine it’s to do with the unmitigated authority the Clave is asking for.”

Magnus stares, “The parts you’ve been  _ allowed _ to read?”

Alec snorts and takes another drink, this time Magnus catches the slight cringe, “The accords are only released to the general population  _ after  _ they’ve been ratified. Too many Shadowhunters would take issue with them, on both sides of the fence, otherwise.”

“I thought your Clave was something of a democracy?” 

Alec shakes his head, “We don’t vote on leaders. The council determines, based on merit, who should join them when a seat opens. The qualifications are strict enough that only a handful ever met them at any one time. The council decides who is appointed to what positions from there and similar qualifiers exist for all of them. It’s how I became head, despite the general opinion in Idris about me. I checked too many boxes for them to reasonably pass me over.”

Magnus stares, “But who enforces it then?”

Alec’s lips curl up then, just a little, “It is one of the few things that is public in entirety. When a member of the council or an institute head is chosen the information about their selection is made public by law. The last Consul who tried to appoint council members who did not fulfill the requirements? He was dragged into the streets and de-runed by the public.”

“I...see.”

Looking at his nearly empty glass Alec shrugged, “The early laws were written by Jonathan Shadowhunter and are more like religion to most Nephilim. We make a lot of mistakes, we’ve become oppressive but we weren’t always. The writs about soulmates are almost beautiful in their message of unity and the blanket statement that all pairs were sacred has forced the Clave to accept a broader scope of the world than I think they would have otherwise.” Alec huffs, “But you’re distracting me Magnus. I won’t let you sign something you don’t agree with or believe in just to spare me.”

They stare at each other until Magnus makes a defeated noise in his throat, “You’re my soulmate Alexander, what else am I supposed to do?”

The smile that gets him is surprising but Alec looks a little dazed, “I don’t know Magnus, but we’ll figure it out. We’ve got...there’s…” He shakes his head, “ _ your  _ soulmate.” 

Oh.

Warmth blooms in Magnus’ chest. Alexander’s right though, they can make a real plan later, right now is for them. When Magnus had tugged Alec through a portal it hadn’t been so they could sit and talk about the Clave. 

“Yes. I’m a lucky man.” Magnus winks, even as he reaches to drag his fingers over Alec’s soulmark again.

“No...no I-”

Magnus taps one gold painted nail against Alexander’s arm, “None of that, darling. I’ve been waiting for you too long not to recognize my good luck in finally having you.”

There’s a lovely pink that dusts Alexander’s cheeks at that and he smiles, a little shy.

“I...I didn’t think I’d ever get this.”

Magnus swallows, “I’m sorry.”

“No, Magnus, it’s not your fault.” He sets his glass on the side table and wraps strong but gentle fingers around Magnus’ wrist, “I thought it meant that maybe I was whole, or I guess I hoped that’s what it meant. The stories talk about soulmates being two halves, complete only together, but I thought that was a little sad. When no mark ever came in I hoped maybe...I told my mom and she encouraged that idea, my wholeness. I don’t think she understood. She insisted it made me stronger, not to have the pressure of fate on me. She started to expect things from me that I struggled to give, so I learned to be better. I let everyone who knew, my family and a few others, that I thought I was complete, happy.”

Alec’s expression twists into some echo of old grief, his touch gentles further and Magnus imagines him made of sugar glass, sweet and pretty and so fragile. 

“I was terrified. I wasn’t even good enough to be  _ normal,  _ to have a soulmate. I read about a woman who tried to devote her life to the church until it became too much and she killed herself. Her journals said that she believed her lack of a mark meant she lacked a soul. I could understand that, I resigned myself to that and then...and then there you were.” 

Alec trails his touch up Magnus’ arm until he’s cupping his cheek with a soft smile. 

“I told myself to stop looking, when I saw this,” his hand drops to the sprig on Magnus’ collarbone, “I had to remember that there was no one for me-”

Magnus catches his hand, “Even if you didn’t have a soulmate, you deserved a chance with someone, if you wanted it.”

Alec shrugs, “Maybe, but, it doesn’t matter now.”

Alec’s thumb is rubbing the mark under his hand, his gaze is impossibly soft and hopeful. Magnus melts under his attention.

“No. I guess not.” Magnus says gently.

They’re sitting close together on his couch, they’ve spoken plenty in the last few days but none of it has been about anything but their work or Alexander’s orders. They’re soulmates and the  _ rightness  _ of Alec at his side is like liquid grace in his bones, but they don’t  _ know  _ each other.

Magnus knows the facts about Alec that any downworlder knows and a few half-scared, half-awed stories from Simon. He knows that Alexander is fundamentally a protector and that he’s good at his job. He’s learned that he was prepared to be fully alone all his life and devoted himself to his family and his role instead of letting that belief destroy him. It’s a good beginning, but it’s not enough and the strength of the feeling that’s growing between them frightens him a little.

“We should date.” He says and watches Alexander’s nose scrunch.

“Date?”

“You don’t want to be wined and dined to your heart’s content by your glamorous, wealthy warlock soulmate?” Magnus teases.

Alec frowns a little deeper, “Not if you’re only doing it because you think I care about what you can give me. I want to know you, but I don’t want you to think you have to give me anything to keep me.”

Magnus opens his mouth to reply, but nothing comes to him. Alec’s eyes widen a little and he pulls his hands away, but only because he’s talking with them.

“Not that I don’t...I would love to go on dates with you! I can pay for things though and they don’t have to be anything extravagant, unless that’s what you like.”

Hard as it is to admit, it eases something in Magnus that’s too used to being taken for granted and he grins, “Oh darling, occasional extravagance is a must! But we’ll ease you into it.” He winks for good measure and Alec laughs.

“How long do I have you?” Magnus asks, thinking about the busy flurry of shadowhunting that usually takes place in the evenings and the sinking sun.

“As long as you want me.” Alec answers, earnest.

“I meant until you needed to get back to work, though I’ll take you up on the other bit.”

Alec blushes a little, “Oh, um, I texted Izzy that I would be out until tomorrow. They can function without me for one night, provided nothing major happens and I don’t make a habit of it.”

“Excellent!” Magnus tugs him to his feet, “It’s a perfect time to go on our first date then, do you like Ethiopian?”

-

Alec stands, hands behind his perfectly straight back, and looks at the glass image of the angel that flares behind his desk. Light breaks in colored flakes across the floor, his own body. He takes a slow breath, counts the seconds and tracks dust motes with his eyes. 

His jacket is off, his sleeves rolled neatly, his archer’s gloves on. They’ve had a few weeks to plan this but the Inquisitor is at the end of her rope, she’s coming directly to speak with him. He has no doubt that she expects him to either present his completed assignment or step down. His phone vibrates on his desk and he turns away from the angel, calm.

Magnus, he knows, is just a room away, patiently waiting for Alec to call him in.

His phone vibrates again and he sends a quick acknowledgement to Jace before he settles to face the door, face impassive.

Inquisitor Herondale doesn’t knock.

Alec doesn’t offer her a seat and doesn’t take his own. If she wants to try and claim the space she’s going to have to try a little harder than just barging in, Jace does it twice a day on a slow day.

“Lightwood.” She holds out a hand, Alec doesn’t move his hands from where they’re clasped behind his back again. Her eyes flicker down and then she drops her hand.

“Inquisitor. What can the New York Institute do for you?”

Imogen glances around the room briefly, moves like she’s going to sit down and then thinks better of it, standing behind one of the smooth leather chairs instead. Alec can see that it grates on her how at ease he is, she expected to make him nervous. He’s not afraid anymore, she can certainly still hurt him, but he’s prepared to accept that.

“You, Mr. Lightwood, can explain to me why the directive you were given has been sitting unanswered for two months  _ and  _ you can explain why you sent the council a message stating that “the situation has changed” and your orders were “no longer acceptable.”

Alec finally sits, a casual movement that, instead of granting Imogen any status, draws the power in the room firmly into his hands. He flicks open the file on his tablet, it has three items in it and he turns it toward Imogen. There’s his initial order from the Clave, his notes to the side about the wisdom of the kill order, and the message Imogen mentioned.

“You’ve received nothing about Magnus Bane because, as I said, the situation changed rapidly.”

Imogen takes a grudging step to look at the tablet and her nostrils flare, she reads aloud from his notes, “ “Magnus captured the nature of these orders perfectly when he stated the senility or downright insanity in the Clave is making itself known. Even disregarding our current circumstances.” All this tells me Mr. Lightwood is that you not only neglected to follow orders, you compromised any effort another Shadowhunter might make to act on this directive by warning the warlock. You are not fit-”

“Careful, Inquisitor. I can deliver something better than Magnus Bane’s head, but not if you force me to make a different choice.” Alec says the words, but his focus is inward, pushing a quiet call into the newly made soulbond that connects him to Magnus.

Imogen glares down at him, her high-necked blouse and curls doing little to detract from the bird-like resemblance she has, “What could you possibly have that would equate removing Magnus Bane from his position?”

Alec scoffs, “Why don’t you speak plainly, it was never about his position, you want him dead so his friends fall in line to sign the New Accords.”

“You are a fool if you think you could offer the Clave anything that equals the assurance of ratifying the New Accords.”

“Oh, I don’t think Alexander’s the fool in this room.” Magnus says with a smile that’s too sharp to be friendly as he steps smoothly into Imogen’s space, “In fact, he may be the only intelligent member of the Clave left.”

Alec can’t help the way his mouth twitches, but Imogen is too busy sneering  _ up  _ at Magnus to notice.

“Colluding with Bane is treason, Mr. Lightwood.”

Alec leans forward, arms on his desk and begins pulling his archer’s gloves off, left side first, “I think, Inquisitor, you’ll find it better to take a seat and listen to what we have to say. We can come to an agreement on this, I’m certain. I would hate to deprive the Clave of more soldiers and I wouldn’t want to come between you and your grandson.”

Imogen looks away from Magnus with wide, furious eyes, “What, exactly, are you threatening?”

Alec moves to his right glove with a careful shrug, “It’s a statement of truth, Inquisitor. If you refuse to honor the Law in this case myself, my siblings, and my parabatai, as well as several others are prepared to break from the Clave. Our race does not dictate our governing body and we can hunt demons fine with the downworld’s support.”

Her face going pale, she splutters, “You would drag others down into madness with you? What Law says that you have not committed treason?”

As she’s spoken Magnus has moved to stand beside Alec’s chair as well and he drops his glamour, revealing flowers on his face, his neck, his bare forearms. Alec tugs his right glove off and taps his soulmark pointedly.

“One of the most sacred.”

It’s silent for a full minute as Inquisitor Herondale stares, stone-faced, at the orchids against Alec’s pale skin. When she still doesn’t speak after that, Magnus takes over.

“We guessed, as soon as we realized that the Clave sent my own soulmate to kill me,” she flinches, if word gets out that’s what this is the Shadow World will explode, “that you would try to strip him of his position and do your best to endanger him without getting your own hands dirty. I am here to tell you, if you even try to touch him it will mean a war. I wonder how many of your people will come to my side?”

Alec’s earlier threat clearly weighs on her then and she speaks in a resigned, quiet voice, “The Clave will not remove Alec Lightwood as Head of this Institute.”

Magnus gives her another sharp smile, blue clouding his fingers as he holds his hand out over the desk. She stares at it and with a grimace, slowly takes it. The blue binds them together for a second before sinking into their skin.

“Not a promise I’d break.” Magnus says calmly and lets her go.

“If that’s all.” Imogen stands quickly and Alec rises evenly.

“No.”

She freezes, “No?”

“We’re not going to let you go back to Alicante to plan another way to deal with us. The Clave is a snake of corruption eating it’s own tail, I don’t trust the council to honor our bond. You don’t have to remove me to kill either of us or make life hell.”

“So you’re not going to let me leave?” Imogen raises an eyebrow and Magnus laughs.

“Oh, you can go, but with a message. Tell the council that, provided full autonomy is given to the New York Institute and the documents are made publicly available to any member of the Shadow World, the downworld is willing to re-enter negotiations of the New Accords.” Magnus flicks his fingers and a folder appears in his hand.

Imogen takes the folder with parted lips, “I cannot guarantee that.” 

Alec steps so he is pressed shoulder to shoulder with Magnus, not missing how Imogen’s eyes track the movement, “Try.”

To his surprise, and Magnus’ too by the way he tenses, she nods.

“I may not agree with how this was done,” she lingers on Magnus but there’s something regretful in her expression, “but it is past time for real peace to be tried for. I will make the argument to the council.”

She turns but Alec can’t let it go, he has to know.

“Did you ever agree with the orders?”

She doesn’t look back at him, her shoulders tight but strong, “I am a good soldier, Mr. Lightwood. I understand that sometimes one life can save many others.” She takes a breath, “Sometimes that is the justification of the corrupt for their own ends. Maybe I have been a soldier for too long, maybe it is time to remember that I am a fighter too.”

It’s not a commitment one way or the other, and she certainly doesn’t like Magnus, or the downworld, but it’s more than Alec expected.

“Safe returns to Alicante, Inquisitor.”

She gives a slight nod, over her shoulder, but pauses again at the door, “May your watch be long, Mr. Lightwood.”

She’s gone a second later, leaving Alec to stare after her.

“Alexander?” Magnus touches his shoulder and by his tone Alec knows he caught the strange formality of her parting.

“It’s...It’s an old formal parting. It indicates respect for a commander and the wish for them to continue to lead.”

“Do you think we misjudged her?”

He looks at Magnus, finally, and smiles, “Not fully. She was livid with us and she definitely hates you, but the soulmarks shook her. I think we might have forced some realization on her.”

Magnus frowns at him and Alec leans to brush their noses together. They’ve had a few weeks and yet neither of them can resist touching when they’re together. 

“I’ve told you many times how important Soulmarks are to us, how sacred they are. I think it was a wake up for her, not that we had them, but that we had to have so many provisions in place for the Clave’s response. Imogen had to face the fact, just then, that even the Angel-blessed bond between us would not stay them from acting against us.”

Magnus steps so they are pressed together, his body curving so their stomachs touch. It’s one of Alec’s favorite things and he smiles softly down at Magnus.

“Sounds like a heavy day for her.”

“Mmm.” Alec acknowledges and then he’s dipping his head to press a kiss, warm and soft to Magnus’ mouth.

They stand, trading soft kisses for a moment before Magnus leans away.

“Does this mean I can properly meet your siblings now? We’ve told the Clave, we’ve gone on dates, is it time?”

Alec rolls his eyes, “You just want them to help you convince me to go to  _ Pandemonium  _ again.”

Magnus winks at him and Alec groans.

“Fine. But I’m not doing it here. I’ll organize a family dinner tonight, if everyone’s free.”

“Everyone?” Magnus gives him a look.

“Not my parents. Izzy, Jace, their soulmates. Max, if I can get him.” 

Mangus nods, “Alright. Where will we be having dinner?”

Alec huffs, he doesn’t want it to be at the Institute but a restaurant won’t work either. His struggle must be clear because Magnus laughs again.

“Just round them all up and bring them to the loft. I am, after all, very good at parties.”

Alec catches the hand Magnus gestured with, kisses his fingers, “Don’t go through too much trouble, just order takeout and put away the really important breakables. Maybe shut Chairman away, he’s practically big enough to eat Clary.”

Magnus gives him a stern look, “Biscuit is not  _ that  _ small, besides Chairman has a very strict diet.”

They glare at each other until Alec’s lip twitches and then they both lose it, laughing hard enough that a passing Shadowhunter, William, sticks his head in to check on them.


End file.
